An Interview With Her Vampire
by comeonbabyplaymesomething
Summary: Slightly pointless oneshot. Takes place during the finale. What I think would have happened if Elena had gotten to the mansion before Alaric and had a chance to talk to Damon before Sherriff Forbes grabbed her. Warning: meaninful conversation does ensue.


**Just something I wasn't able to get out of my head after the season finale. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Interview With Her Vampire**

She doesn't know why she opens the cell door and takes a seat on the ground next to him. She's been more then reckless lately. But even for her, hanging out in a basement with a homicidal, hallucinating vampire might be pushing it. She can't help but notice that the liberties she's been taking with her life haven't been working out.

But it's been a horrible week. And she's lost enough. Been through enough. And there's no way he gets to die without a goodbye. Especially after his major cop out this morning. Even after everything, she can't bear to let him get off that easy.

He looks at her with heavy eyes. He's not surprised she's here. And he can't fault his brother for telling her. When it comes to Petrova descendants they both have their weaknesses. His body is slumped against the brick wall and a thin sheen of sweat coats his face. "You shouldn't be here," his voice is as rough as sandpaper but there's still conviction in the words. He wants to protect her. And right now he's enemy number one.

"I know," it's a sigh. She's reckless and impulsive. But he's a man that's saved her life over and over. That sticks around despite the promise that she will always love his brother more. So she's staying whether he likes it or not.

"I'll hurt you," his posture suggests he couldn't harm a fly. She knows better of course. It would take just a flick of his wrist. He could kill her in a second. Within a single beat of her heart. But he won't.

"Maybe," she acknowledges with a shrug. If he does she'll deserve it. Penance for lost lives and fates changed. For empty beds and orphans three times over.

He laughs bitterly, turning his head slightly to look her straight in the face. But he doesn't say a word. The sight of her is enough. The better half of heaven and hell. A flawless contrast to Katherine's indifference. Elena simply cares too much. It's the best and worst part about her.

She can't stand the finality of his calm. The acceptance she finds in his eyes. Another victim to add to her body count. She reaches for his hand and holds it in front of her face. It's decidedly ringless and he knows she can tell. Her voice shakes as she accuses, "He's not afraid you'll hurt someone is he? He's afraid you'll hurt _yourself._"

He blinks but doesn't otherwise react. She knows him now. Or at least better then she used to. But he'll never admit to opening the curtains and greeting the sun. To the relief and finality he felt when he began to burn. Or that her face (and it was _her's_) and the sounds of her voice were playing in a loop like the lost lyrics of his favorite song. It's far too melodramatic. And also just a little too much to give a girl who isn't capable of reciprocating.

But it doesn't matter. She has more than enough words to compensate for his silence, "So that's it? I only get one chance? And not even all the details?"

She's angry, but not as mad as she should be. Because she's well aware that she was his first and last visit before the botched attempt at bravery. The one and only person he wanted to see before accepting oblivion. And she can't be mad about it. Can feel nothing but heartbreak and helplessness.

"I didn't want you to feel obligated," he murmurs back, his eyes on the place where her hand encircles his wrist, "You forgiving me out of pity isn't the same as actually meaning it."

"It is _not_ pity," she answers back. And it's not. She's more than grateful. Because a year ago Tyler Lockwood would have been dead. The man seated next to her wouldn't have thought a moment before snapping the transforming wolf's neck. And now Tyler is alive and Damon is dying. And she's proud. So proud of him she wants to cry. Or kill him herself. Because goodness shouldn't mean blatant stupidity.

"I forgave you for Jeremy," she reasons, trying to suppress the memory of her brother's head facing the wrong side of his body. Because there is a limit. And he'd just about reached it in that moment.

"You wouldn't have," he answers almost immediately, sadness clouding his eyes because he remembers too. "Not if he'd died," he lays his palm across her cheek and feels her pulse through her thin skin.

"But he didn't," she retorts just as quickly, her own hand rising to lace with his. Their minutes are fleeting and she's just about to get to her point, "And neither did Tyler. And neither did I."

She moves then, raising his arm so she can shrug under it. Laying her head lightly on his shoulder she admits, "So I forgive you."

He sighs, and closes his eyes as he breathes in the scent of her hair. If he gets to keep his memories after death he wants to know this one by heart. He smiles, more like a smirk, as he whispers an amused and grateful, "Thank you."

She smiles too, because he's dying and so is she (because thanks to his best effort she _is_ still a human), but now at least he knows. Now no matter what he won't be going anywhere thinking she hates him. Her arm slips loosely around his waist as she curves into his side, she'll stay like this until the end if need be, "You're welcome."

A moment later Alaric arrives. And then, as usual, all hell breaks loose.


End file.
